


A Concise Sequel

by betweentheheavesofstorm



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Morning After, kind of a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweentheheavesofstorm/pseuds/betweentheheavesofstorm
Summary: ‘I was out all night; they’ll want to know where I was. You’ve seen Courfeyrac when he wants information from someone.’Regrettably, Grantaire has.An unexpected one-shot sequel.





	A Concise Sequel

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a sequel to [We'll Live, You'll See](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487777) and references events of that fic, but probably would make some kind of sense without it.

'Well,' Grantaire says. He's been lying awake for a while, looking up at his ceiling. 'That was...unexpected.'

Beside him, Enjolras tenses. 'Bad-unexpected?'

'No,' Grantaire hurries to assure him, 'but like. Huh. We were just going for coffee.'

He'd had a very clear idea about how Enjolras's favour would go: it involved one espresso and five minutes of awkward small talk before they went their separate ways and never spoke outside of a group context.

It certainly did not involve going back to his flat and having more sex than he'd had in months, but here they are. In Grantaire's too-small and somewhat lumpy bed.

'I suppose we should talk about it,' Enjolras says, though from his tone it's clear that's the opposite of what he wants. He leans back on their shared pillow, his hair spilling over it. He looks, Grantaire thinks, like one of those photoshopped images of classical paintings put in modern contexts. Adam and Eve on the bus, that sort of thing.

'Yeah,' Grantaire says, deciding that just because this happened doesn't mean he ought to abandon his oath to be as irritating as humanly possible. 'Isn't it against some moral guideline to sleep with your ... I don't know, disciples, _underlings_?'

Enjolras tenses again. It really is remarkable how easy it is to get to him. 'That's not...you don't think of me as ...' He looks at Grantaire, taking in the grin that's found its way onto his face. 'Oh, fuck off.'

'Gladly,' Grantaire makes a move to get out of bed, but as soon as he lifts the duvet up a hand grabs hold of his midriff and tugs him back down.

'S' cold out there,' Enjolras mumbles.

'Don't you want breakfast? Coffee?'

'Coffee's what got us here in the first place.'

‘OK, but you know it’s either that or – ’

‘Coco Pops,’ Enjolras finishes, with a small smile.

‘They aren’t even the branded ones,’ Grantaire momentarily halts his attempts to get up. ‘They’re like, Aldi own-brand chocolate rice puffs. But you knew that.’

‘I meant to ask. About the other day. Did you invite me because you wanted – ’

‘- to tenderly patch up your wounds and seduce you in the process?’ Grantaire snorts. ‘Not exactly, but the thought crossed my mind.’

‘I wouldn’t have minded,’ Enjolras says, quite casually, as if it’s not really important. Grantaire, who had been trying to pick a sock off the floor with one hand, misses his target entirely and twists round to face Enjolras.

‘That’s why you said yes?’

‘Partly. I really didn’t want to go home. I mean, I’m glad it didn’t happen then, it wouldn’t have been good for either of us - ’

‘ _But,’_ Grantaire interrupts.

‘- _but,_ yes, it did occur to me. You were being less of a dick than usual and, well, we’ve established I find you attractive.’

Grantaire has a difficult time keeping the grin off his face. He leans forward and kisses the very end of Enjolras’s nose. ‘ _Right.’_

‘Don’t think this means I’ll put up with your Spotify playlists,’ Enjolras adds, but he’s so cosy that it doesn’t sound very commanding.

‘Oh no,’ Grantaire says, as apathetic as he can muster, ‘you mean hooking up with the chief isn’t my way to the top?’

‘So sorry to disillusion you, but I think Combeferre might …’ Enjolras begins, but instead of finishing his sentence makes a groaning sound.

‘Combeferre might what? I don’t think I can seduce him too. I’d have to behave intelligently, instead of – well, whatever it is I’ve done to attract you.’

‘I’m going to have to tell him and Courf,’ Enjolras clarifies.

‘Not immediately, you don’t,’ Grantaire says, as if he’s not going to text Éponine about this as soon as he’s alone.

‘No, I have to. We don’t keep stuff like that from each other.’

‘You’re sure you aren’t living in a weird commune?’ Grantaire eases one foot out from under the duvet. It’s chilly outside, but he could _really_ use some coffee. ‘Sharing isn’t always caring.’

‘I was out all night; they’ll want to know where I was. You’ve seen Courfeyrac when he wants information from someone.’

Regrettably, Grantaire has.

‘Everyone probably thinks we’re fucking anyway,’ he says. ‘You stayed at mine before.’

‘I told them nothing happened and they believed me. I mean yes, Courf spent ten minutes taking the piss out of me for sleeping on my crush’s sofa, but I was enough of a wreck that he let it go.’

‘You had a _crush_ on me,’ Grantaire says, delighted.

‘Grantaire. We had sex.’

‘Yeah, but like, a _crush._ That’s awkward.’

Enjolras props himself up on his elbows. ‘Did you say something about breakfast?’

 

The coffee is probably the nicest thing Grantaire has in his cupboard. It was a birthday present from Bossuet two months ago, along with a little French press, and Grantaire’s been savouring it. He bought a packet of instant for ordinary days, which doesn’t taste as good but still meets his caffeine requirements.

Today he grabs the nice coffee without thinking too hard about it. If this doesn’t qualify as a special occasion, nothing ever will. He’s halfway through cleaning out some mugs when Éponine comes into the kitchen and makes him jump.

‘Jesus,’ he says, recovering. She moves so quietly it can be difficult to tell if she’s in or not.

‘That’s not my name,’ she says, squeezing past him to make her own breakfast in the tiny kitchen. ‘Please tell me you had somebody round last night, because otherwise I have to tell you to turn your porn down and I’m not emotionally ready for that conversation.’

Grantaire has the decency to redden. ‘Uh, yeah. Sorry, I should have warned you. It wasn’t planned.’ The coffee has finished brewing. He pours it into two mugs and realises he didn’t ask if Enjolras took milk or sugar.

‘So….’ Éponine says, pouring cereal into a bowl.

‘So, since when did you have granola?’ he asks. ‘What happened to choco crunch?’

‘Oh, Cosette buys it,’ she says dismissively. ‘It makes you feel like you’re being healthy but the oats are stuck together with golden syrup. Anyway, tell me about this guy. You haven’t had someone round for _ages_.’

He fidgets. Maybe if he brings the sugar and milk in with the coffee Enjolras can choose what he wants.

‘You know why that is,’ he says.

‘I know, you’re been pining, it was all very sad and boring.’

‘Hey.’

‘It _was._ ’ Éponine pours herself a glass of milk and starts eating the cereal dry, punctuated with sips. ‘But let’s focus on the present.’

‘Well,’ Grantaire says, suddenly realizing the possibilities of the conversation. Revealing all to Éponine is going to be funny however he tells her, but he can only tell her _once._ ‘It wasn’t even meant to be a date. At least, I don’t think it was. But things…escalated.’

She pops a handful of granola into her mouth. ‘Elaborate.’

‘We had coffee and were chatting,’ he says. It feels weird to consider in retrospect. ‘It was fine, bit awkward but, fine.’

‘And then?’ She sees him hesitate. ‘Come on, I had to listen to you two last night, I’m not asking for sordid details. I just wanna know how you went from a café date to _that._ ’

The truth is, it was an accident. They had been leaving the café; Grantaire had taken his cup to the bin. (Enjolras, of course, had brought his own reusable one). He hadn’t realised that Enjolras was right behind him until he turned around and almost walked into him. And then -

‘He kissed me,’ Grantaire says. It’s unreal to say aloud. ‘So, um, it sort of went from there.’

‘Remind me to add romance author to the list of careers you should never have.’ Éponine yawns.

Grantaire balances the milk and a plastic tub of sugar in the crook of his elbow and picks up both mugs. ‘I’ll tell you the rest later.’

‘Enjolras is going to be heartbroken,’ she says, and he nearly drops the mugs. Thankfully she doesn’t notice his spilling coffee on his hands. ‘After your heart-to-heart the other night.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he says, aware that she’s following him out of the kitchen. ‘About that.’ And he kicks open his bedroom door.

Far from obeying the command to stay in bed, Enjolras has risen and is now fully dressed, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Despite his clear attempts at composure he’s clearly in Morning After mode: his shirt crumpled and his hair fantastically messy.

Grantaire hands him one of the mugs and looks over his shoulder to check on Éponine. She’s staring past him and her mouth has fallen slightly open.

‘I told you,’ he says, ‘I’ve stopped pining.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ she says. ‘Hi, Enjolras.’

‘Hi Éponine,’ Enjolras says politely, accepting the sugar but waving away the milk. ‘You coming to the meeting later?’

‘Oh, no. Taking my brother to the cinema.’ She shoots Grantaire a dirty look and makes her way back to the kitchen.

‘This is good coffee,’ Enjolras says. He’s still in a very amiable mood – in fact, more so than Grantaire has seen him be before.

‘It was a present from Bossuet,’ Grantaire says, adding sugar to his own mug and sipping it. ‘Also good news: Éponine is definitely telling Cosette about this, so Cosette will tell Musichetta, who tells Joly – ’

‘Who tells Courferyac,’ Enjolras nods.

They’ve only been awake an hour and they’ve already agreed more than they ever have before. Post-sex Enjolras is a lot more fun.

Grantaire sits on the edge of the bed next to him. ‘What’re you up to today?’

‘I’m meant to be drafting leaflets,’ Enjolras remembers. ‘For the Musain food bank. Shit, they need to be done by Monday. What about you?’

‘Keeping up my obligations as a nuisance,’ Grantaire says, nudging Enjolras’s shoulder. ‘Starting with distracting you.’

‘Is that so?’

Grantaire raises his coffee to his mouth, and with his other hand reaches out to ruffle Enjolras’s hair.

‘Yup.’

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on a sequel, but I was halfway through flashcards on Marlowe's Hero and Leander and suddenly felt a strong urge to write one. Maybe it's because the first part had zero kissing and cosmically I had to make up for that by escalating things. 
> 
> I've also read (and written) a lot of fics where Grantaire reacts to being liked with shock and disbelief and thought it would be fun to write one where he's delighted by it and the chance of being annoying that it offers. 
> 
> If you want to chat (or witness my increasingly frustrated liveblogs of the BBC Les Mis debacle) you can find me on Tumblr at [betweentheheavesofstorm](https://betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com/) & if you enjoyed this fic please let me know in a comment!


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